


girls just wanna have fun

by clairelutra (exosolarmoon), sharpshooting



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff without Plot, Movie Night, after a fashion, just... f l u f f, with added jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 12:26:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13834260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exosolarmoon/pseuds/clairelutra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharpshooting/pseuds/sharpshooting
Summary: It was a little hard to think past the fog of panic-irritation-pain (she wasn't his and she'd never be his and he was coming to terms with thatvery slowlybut the thought of her with anyone else still made him want to fight something) but he managed it; Allura was sad because this would have been a momentous time, if not for the war and the genocide and Zarkon. Allura, being who she was, was probably mourning the loss of the parties she'd never attended, the courtship she'd never gotten, the happy times she'd never gotten to experience.The flowers and gifts she'd never received, the dances she'd never had, the hand-kisses or the love poems or the ridiculous, opulent offers she'd never turned down.And, jealous or not, Lance was fully capable of recognizing that for the goddamn tragedy it was.Allura and Lance go on a friend-date to the movies, and some very important things come to light.





	girls just wanna have fun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [team-moonlark](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=team-moonlark).



Allura was sad.

That probably meant that Lance shouldn't be admiring the plush curve of her mouth as she sulkily sucked the straw of her drink, but Lance was never one to let such things get in his appreciation of god-given _beauty._

She was wearing the shimmery pink lip gloss she'd tried to give Pidge—who'd used it once and then left it to Allura—and the color fit her mouth to a T, and Lance couldn't help but feel a little weak-kneed at the thought of it smeared all over _his_. Her hair was in a high ponytail that let loose waves of glossy, silvery hair to spill around her face and shoulders, looking luxurious and soft and finger-itchingly tempting. Thick, pale eyelashes framed deep blue eyes, the curve of her cheek gentle and elegant.

If there were wars over how _goddamn pretty_ Allura was, it would only be just. Heck, if no one else would, Lance might start those wars himself. Allura was _just that pretty._

That said, Allura was pretty, but also very sad.

They were sitting in the back of a movie theater together, as per the 'Blue Lion Bonding Pact'—which was Lance's response to Allura helping him learn Altean broadsword fighting. Every week, he learned some sweet new moves, and every week, they had a bonding session. They went out to market places or had movie nights or played video games or taught each other recipes; anything that didn't have to do with the war was fair game.

He'd learned over the course of their bonding that there were times when Allura wanted to be asked about her sadness, and times when she would bring it up herself, and he was still trying to sort out which was which.

After she failed to react to both the gory death of an alien _and_ the swoon-worthy reunion of the hero and heroine onscreen, Lance decided that it was time to ask.

"Hey, everything okay?"

Allura stopped sucking the ice at the bottom of her cup, but didn't give any other indication she'd heard. She didn't answer immediately—it was only after several long seconds of silence that she said, "It was..."

Another alien blew up on the big screen, and Allura lowered her drink.

Lance waited.

"My debut year ended yesterday," she finally said. Her eyes were dim, and Lance filed the emotion under, _lost_. "I had to look at the calendars, and the Term of Giving just ended."

"Term of Giving?"

"My birth-term," she said, and set down her drink to fold her hands in her lap. "The end of my twenty-third year."

"Oh," said Lance, kicking himself for not knowing. He'd have to find her a belated birthday gift. "Happy birthday. O-or birth-term, I guess."

She tilted him a half-smile. "Thank you."

"Sorry we didn't celebrate," he mumbled, scrubbing the back of his neck. He laid his other hand on her shoulder—it was bare and chilly in her strapless sundress, and Lance shifted his palm so it would cover more of her skin. "We can still get together and throw a party. The rest of the team would totally be on board." Then, "Wait, do Alteans throw birthday— birth-term parties?"

"We do," Allura confirmed, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. "That would be... enjoyable, I think."

That wasn't the main issue, though. She was still drooping, her posture curled inward, her mouth pinched and flat.

"So what's up?"

She startled, then flashed him a wry look. "I... It was my debut year. I should have been betrothed by now, and I haven't even had a single courtship ball."

Wait. _What?_

Lance... honestly didn't know what to say. He scrambled for something to fill the silence and came up with, "B-b- _betrothed?"_

"Yes," said Allura, then, catching his look, she smiled weakly. "It is traditional for Altean noblewomen to sort out our future matches at this age. Were Altea not gone..." Her weak smile took on a wistful lilt. "Were Altea not gone, the whole past year would have been festivities for the whole planet as my father and mother tried to find me a spouse. It's not often that a princess comes of age. We would have celebrated in style."

Every inch of Lance viscerally _rejected_ the thought of _Allura engaged_ , but he forced down the jealousy clawing at his throat and said, "Oh. That sucks. I'm sorry."

Allura's eyes dropped to her lap, and she said nothing.

It was a little hard to think past the fog of panic-irritation-pain (she wasn't his and she'd never be his and he was coming to terms with that _very slowly_ but the thought of her with anyone else still made him want to fight something) but he managed it; Allura was sad because this would have been a momentous time, if not for the war and the genocide and Zarkon. Allura, being who she was, was probably mourning the loss of the parties she'd never attended, the courtship she'd never gotten, the happy times she'd never gotten to experience.

The flowers and gifts she'd never received, the dances she'd never had, the hand-kisses or the love poems or the ridiculous, opulent offers she'd never turned down.

And, jealous or not, Lance was fully capable of recognizing that for the goddamn tragedy it was.

"That _really_ sucks," he announced to the silver screen. The hero and heroine were locked in another passionate, limb-entwining embrace. It would probably lead to a sex scene if this was Earth, but as far as Lance could tell, this _was_ the standard sex scene for Darium movies. "It's like we didn't just miss one of your birthdays—we missed like _twenty_."

"Well," Allura allowed, raising her head to speak to the silver screen herself, "you didn't know, it's true."

"How does courting work on Altea?" Lance asked, not bothering to sound casual. The gears in his head were turning, spinning—they had the coalition's resources, didn't they? How hard could a little noble flirting be?

"The suitor would ordinarily make a declaration of intent to the lady and her family," she said, tiling her head and regarding him curiously. "Then there would be gifts—family heirloom trinkets and weapons were popular, the last I remember. The suitor would throw parties and construct shows to take the lady to, and if she responded favorably—and if her family approved—he would show her his lands."

Okay, so Lance didn't have _lands_ , exactly, but he bet he could get Coran's approval.

"What happens if you don't like any of them?"

"Then the lady's parents would decide the best match." She quirked an eyebrow. "Why? Are you planning to court me?"

Alien movies didn't quite end like Earth movies—Darium ones especially ended with the heat death of the universe—so the darkened theater was briefly flooded with the light of the supernova that would spell their end, and when it faded, the lights were back on.

Lance stood up. "Yeah. I am."

And then, while Allura was still blinking over that, he caught her hand and swept into an elaborate bow, peeking up at her and grinning mischievously.

He fumbled for what to say for two hot seconds, then, "Would you allow me the honor of courting you, Princess?"

Allura... Allura _blushed_.

"I... _Lance_..."

Lance bit the inside of his lip and forced himself not to back down or cover it up. Allura didn't really need wars started over her beauty, but maybe... maybe she needed a someone or three to _appreciate_ it.

(If she said yes, he'd have to see if he could drag the other paladins into this, and maybe the Blade of Mamora? Maybe some of _them_ would court Allura alongside him—he knew at least Hunk and Pidge would think it was a good time. Sure, he didn't think any of them would be particularly serious about it, but he didn't really think Allura _wanted_ serious. He was pretty sure there was a lot of the fun to be had in just the courting.)

Her face softened, her fingers curling in his hand as a real smile stole across her mouth. She tugged at his grip, using his help to stand. "Alright. I accept your suit, Paladin Lance."

Lance beamed, relief crashing through his chest. "Awesome."

And then, while she making to guide him back out of the movie theater, he brushed a kiss to her knuckles, delighting in the squeak-stumble-giggle that got out of her.

That lip gloss might have fit her to a T, but it fit her smile even better.

This was going to be _fun._

**Author's Note:**

> h/c that alteans mature at roughly the same rate as humans, but the healing pods extend their prime for several hundreds of years.


End file.
